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stuff.
I cut myself this morning. I have no idea how. I just felt a stinging sensation at the base of my left thumb as I was driving to work, looked down, and saw a quarter-inch slice with the blood already dried on.
I overslept this morning, dreaming about. Something. A character played by Paul McGann appeared just before I woke up. I was trying to quit smoking (Marlboro Milds) with the nicotine gum, but even in the dream I didn't really believe that I needed to quit: I could barely believed that I smoked at all, but I had vivid memories of standing in the parking lot behind the apartment where I lived my last two years of undergrad, smoking and hiding from my roommates.
In the shower, I started thinking about comebacks I should have used on said roommates.
Also,
Numb3rs fandom creates weird etiquette problems. I've written both gen and 'cest in the fandom, and, though it's far from logical, I find I regard Don/Charlie as an OTP. All aboard, Special Hell, off we go.
But last week I wrote a spot of gen fluff and posted it. Naturally it mostly got read by people who read my journal, and are aware of my damned proclivities, as for instance![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pearl_o, who said Awwwwwwwwww.
The subtext "but where's the porn gone?" was doubtless all in my head; nonetheless I responded to her comment with My god, I did it again. I wrote fluff again. What is it about this fandom? Subtext: "Yes, where is the porn? Where is the massively fraught dirtywrong hotness?"
Where this gets tricky is where somebody I don't know replies to my reply with This fandom subscribes to the side of family relations we don't usually get to see in an era devoted to the skeletons in everybody's closets: they actually love each other, even when they don't understand each other, and have a ton of shared history to fall back on.
Now, since I compulsively research everything--even my impulses to disconcert strangers--I looked up this commenter's journal, and promptly determined that, yeah, she's a gen person. A gen person, in fact, likely to be fairly horrified by the 'cest. She didn't sign on to the Special Hell Social Contract by clicking over to my gen fic, so I should probably be polite and just say thanks.
I did not, of course, just say thanks. I said, Yeah, my disbelief has less to do with the evident love between the characters and more to do with my own propensity to be rather angstier in my writing. Where by angstier I meant "incest porn, possibly with a side of violence." But she didn't know that, so everybody was happy.
And then I said thanks, and went to bed, secure in the knowledge that I had resisted the temptation to randomly horrify an innocent genner.
Only this morning? She had replied again.
LOL. I think the show is so good at the fluff that it impedes your ability to angst.
Or maybe, the show itself is so good at the angsty bits (bank robbery ep, anyone?) that you don't feel the need to write that. :-)
Must... resist...
I overslept this morning, dreaming about. Something. A character played by Paul McGann appeared just before I woke up. I was trying to quit smoking (Marlboro Milds) with the nicotine gum, but even in the dream I didn't really believe that I needed to quit: I could barely believed that I smoked at all, but I had vivid memories of standing in the parking lot behind the apartment where I lived my last two years of undergrad, smoking and hiding from my roommates.
In the shower, I started thinking about comebacks I should have used on said roommates.
Also,
Numb3rs fandom creates weird etiquette problems. I've written both gen and 'cest in the fandom, and, though it's far from logical, I find I regard Don/Charlie as an OTP. All aboard, Special Hell, off we go.
But last week I wrote a spot of gen fluff and posted it. Naturally it mostly got read by people who read my journal, and are aware of my damned proclivities, as for instance
pearl_o, who said Awwwwwwwwww. The subtext "but where's the porn gone?" was doubtless all in my head; nonetheless I responded to her comment with My god, I did it again. I wrote fluff again. What is it about this fandom? Subtext: "Yes, where is the porn? Where is the massively fraught dirtywrong hotness?"
Where this gets tricky is where somebody I don't know replies to my reply with This fandom subscribes to the side of family relations we don't usually get to see in an era devoted to the skeletons in everybody's closets: they actually love each other, even when they don't understand each other, and have a ton of shared history to fall back on.
Now, since I compulsively research everything--even my impulses to disconcert strangers--I looked up this commenter's journal, and promptly determined that, yeah, she's a gen person. A gen person, in fact, likely to be fairly horrified by the 'cest. She didn't sign on to the Special Hell Social Contract by clicking over to my gen fic, so I should probably be polite and just say thanks.
I did not, of course, just say thanks. I said, Yeah, my disbelief has less to do with the evident love between the characters and more to do with my own propensity to be rather angstier in my writing. Where by angstier I meant "incest porn, possibly with a side of violence." But she didn't know that, so everybody was happy.
And then I said thanks, and went to bed, secure in the knowledge that I had resisted the temptation to randomly horrify an innocent genner.
Only this morning? She had replied again.
LOL. I think the show is so good at the fluff that it impedes your ability to angst.
Or maybe, the show itself is so good at the angsty bits (bank robbery ep, anyone?) that you don't feel the need to write that. :-)
Must... resist...